


Because I Love Him

by letyourwordsout



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hurt John Watson, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letyourwordsout/pseuds/letyourwordsout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is allowing himself to change and deteriorate to become what he believed that Sherlock Holmes wanted from him. When Mycroft brings the two men together to hash it out, things are wobbly for a while, but things even out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, any of the characters/settings/etc.  
> Sad angsty stuff, but it'll get better  
> Stay fabulous.

John Watson was a man who was very sensitive when it came to emotions but he never showed it. Ever. Even Sherlock never knew how absolutely tortured John was. Sherlock never understood love and romance, not really. John accepted this and didn’t request much of anything from Sherlock, his own views on romance changing the standards he usually held. All of a sudden, before John even knew what was going on, Sherlock cleaning out the kitchen of experiments for Valentine’s Day was the most love filled gesture John really got, and he was content, until it came to the place of John trying to figure out how to reciprocate for Sherlock.

He tried everything, anything he could think of. Flowers in the apartment were met with confused looks, and were generally passed off to Mrs. Hudson. Chocolates would be used for experiments. Sherlock never ate on their “dates” if that’s what they even were, since they were nearly always on a case when they ate together. John was already expected to make Sherlock eat, and Sherlock never cared the quality of the food. John even went as far as to buy him things, but Sherlock generally thought they were things he’d bought a while ago and deleted, and even on occasion, gave them back to John as a present.

Physical affection, in public, was never appreciated, so John knew to stay away, and didn’t push any boundaries. No one even knew-not even Mycroft with his stupid cameras in the flat knew, because they never acted like a couple, ever. They slept in the same bed, but on opposite sides, and didn’t do many activities together. John was slowly becoming more and more withdrawn, finding that Sherlock was appreciative of silence and having someone to just talk at, not talk to. John wasn’t supposed to talk, not really. John’s suggestions were always stupid, never appreciated… So John slowly withdrew from his life, even going as far as to quit his job at the hospital to spend more time with Sherlock after Sherlock whined about John being gone all of the time. John even got a hug for that, and he glowed after that like he hadn’t in forever.

* * *

John was a simple man, and he was more intelligent than anyone ever gave him credit for. So he knew it was Mycroft’s car when a few months later, a car rolled up beside him when he was walking home from the store.

“I’ve got groceries…” John said through the open window, a bit wary.

“Drop them off, and then come back here,” Anthea demanded, not even looking up from her blackberry. John shrugged and walked the rest of the way home. Sherlock wasn’t even in the apartment, he’d forgotten John again. There was a slight twinge in his chest, but John continued on, putting away the groceries and walking back to Mycroft’s car. John got into the car and didn’t talk, now trained to keep his thoughts and questions to himself, and go along with the flow of things. He walked into Mycroft’s office quietly, no one in the general area even heard him until he knocked on Mycroft’s door quietly. He’d learned how to do that a few weeks back, when Sherlock decided to tell John he walked like an elephant-his military walk was too loud.

Mycroft let him into the office, and smiled a bit at John, “Doctor Watson,” he greeted quietly. John closed the door behind himself.

“So, what has Sherlock done this time?” John asked with a small chuckle.

“This isn’t about him… Well, it is, but this is more about you,” Mycroft said, gesturing towards the chair. John sat down slowly, biting his cheek in confusion.

“Me? I haven’t done anything, I swear,” John said, panicked.

“This isn’t… a government matter. This is a personal matter,” Mycroft said gently, as gently as he could.

“But… okay,” John said, immediately scolding himself about how he wasn’t told to ask questions, and if Mycroft wanted answers, he’d ask the questions.

“So, it’s come to my attention that you’re dating my brother,” Mycroft said bluntly. John smiled softly.

“Yeah, sorry about not telling you, but… Sherlock wasn’t eager for you to know. No one knows, at all,” John tried to be reassuring, but couldn’t keep that little bit of jaded anger out of his voice.

“I haven’t the slightest idea why you seem to be under the impression you two are dating. There is no evidence of you two dating on the cameras, in public, or in your own flat even. Mrs. Hudson has no clue, and you two can’t possibly be that good at hiding this. So when I went back and re-watched the footage over the past few months, I recognized your subtle attempts at trying to court him… John, this isn’t a healthy relationship,” Mycroft said firmly, “You have become less and less like yourself over the past few months, and it isn’t okay to change yourself just because my idiotic bother doesn’t understand he’s hurting you,”

“Well, if flowers and chocolates and fancy dinners and mix tapes don’t do it for Sherlock, then I need some other way, right? And if he appreciates silence, and me going to the store, and me learning how to walk around silently, then that’s what I’ll give him. If he wants me to shut up, then I’ll give him what he wants, because I love him.” John said, making it sound so simple, when it really wasn’t.

“John… It’s not good for you to act like this, I don’t know why you think it is,” Mycroft said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Which is why I’ve brought Sherlock here to talk it out with you,” Mycroft got up, opened the door to the closet and Sherlock walked out, looking down.

John glared at Mycroft, “Thanks, Mycroft. Now I understand why Sherlock never appreciates you, you take good things and you try to muck them up. Our relationship is fine, thank you very much,” and with that, John started to walk out of the room, doing his best not to tear up as he remembered Sherlock’s sad face. There were reasons he never told anyone about him stopping to suggest things, not even Sherlock. Why he started trying to become more intelligent, or at least come across as more intelligent, because he knew Sherlock would be at least a bit contrite. It wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. Not really.

John slowly walked back to the apartment, hoping Sherlock would still want him around, and wouldn’t leave him. He loved Sherlock so much more than everyone else could possibly understand, even Sherlock. He wasn’t looking for someone to love him, not really. Because he didn’t need it, not like Sherlock needed someone to make him eat and sleep and someone to talk to, a spectator of his genius, like he needed someone to tell him when the way he acted was “a bit not good”. Sherlock needed John, but John needed Sherlock too. When he fell asleep into Sherlock’s bed every night, he felt like he belonged there, and like he was safe. He needed the sense of security (even if it was false security) that came with Sherlock. John could create love out of nothing; he’d done it before enough times that it was a second nature by then. He didn’t need someone to love him, he just needed someone to be there so he could make believe.

John walked slowly into the flat, Mrs. Hudson nowhere to be found. Sherlock was sitting at the table, clear of experiments and covered in take out from Angelo’s. John walked in silently, looking at him curiously, but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh for God’s sake, John, say something,” Sherlock begged softly.

“Um, what would you like me to say?” he said softly, hanging up his jacket quietly.

“Anything,” he whispered.

“I love you,” John whispered back.

“I love you too… I…” Sherlock said, and John sighed,

“Sherlock, don’t do that,” he said softly, “It’s fine, I did this for you, don’t apologize. You didn’t force me to do it, I did it for you,” John said softly, a smile on his face. He kissed Sherlock’s cheek quickly before disappearing up the stairs and into their room. There, the smile fell and he changed quickly, “There better not be any cameras in here Mycroft,” he said quietly and then crawled into bed. He hid his face in Sherlock’s pillow and tried to fall asleep. He heard the door open behind him, but didn’t move as he heard Sherlock change and then slip into the bed. John was startled when he felt Sherlock wrap an arm around his waist and snuggle close.

“I love you, John Watson,” Sherlock whispered and John tucked his head under Sherlock’s chin, shifting them to be a bit more comfortable,

“I love you too, Sherlock Holmes,” John replied quietly.

John drifted off to sleep, feeling Sherlock run his hands through John’s slightly longer-than-normal hair, he hummed in contentment and slept easily.

* * *

 

The next morning, John found Sherlock in the kitchen, and he was hoping last night wasn’t a dream. He walked silently up to him over the stove and peeked at what he was making. Sherlock closed the lid quickly, “No peeking,” he scolded, smiling softly at John. John blushed and sat down at the table obediently, waiting. A few minutes later, Sherlock laid down a plate of eggs and bacon.

John was a bit shocked, “Um, thanks,” he said happily, and started eating. It tasted amazing, and he had half a mind to demand that Sherlock cook more. But he kept his face shut down from his emotions, and finished off the plate; Sherlock was watching him in earnest, “Thanks,” John said softly, he normally would’ve added a term of endearment, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to use those.

“John, stop trying to figure out what you should and should not do,” Sherlock said quickly, a burst of frustration coming through. John was startled and jolted a bit. Sherlock then threw himself on the couch, “I fell in love with the OLD John, and this new one, who keeps trying to cater to my whims, is getting, quite frankly, annoying and hard to understand! I don’t like pliant, understanding John! I love the John that constantly corrects my behavior and doesn’t care that I want silence, who goes on talking and making tea anyways! I don’t understand what makes you believe differently,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. John sat down next to him slowly,

 “Sherlock… I don’t think you understand how hard it is to love you sometimes… How hard it is to continually brush off your insults of my stupidity and small mindedness!” John ranted. “I grew up in a household where you either conformed, or you were kicked out. Then I went into the Army, where the same thing happened. So what makes you believe that I’m able to just suddenly stick up for myself and NOT conform to what you talk about wanting?” John shouted, finally letting out all of his feelings at once, “I tried everything I could possibly think of to show you that I cared and every SINGLE TIME that I tried, I was either brushed off or ignored or something ridiculous! Remember when I left that CD on the table and you put it in your laptop? Then you ranted for hours about ‘who on earth could ever give me something as ridiculous as this?’ Remember that?! That was ME, thank you very much! We never went on dates because you were always on cases or you weren’t in the mood to eat, movies are ‘dull’, and heaven forbid I bring up something like going bowling! You’ve never seemed to act like you cared, like I was anything more than a bed warmer and a receptacle for your amazing intelligence!” John was working his way up to screaming now, “So don’t you DARE talk about love, because if you EVER loved me, you would have been more observant,” and John ran up the stairs and into his old bedroom.

Half an hour later, John heard Sherlock walk slowly up the stairs and enter the room quietly, “John… I’m so sorry…” Sherlock whispered. He sat on the edge of John’s bed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re so… you’re so important to me, much more than you even know or understand… You’re my everything, John… I don’t think I could live without you, and I know I don’t want to… I don’t deserve you, or your love, but I need the old you back… it’s selfish of me, I know, but I love you. I’ll try harder! I promise! We can go out whenever you like and watch boring movies and cuddle when we fall asleep. I’ll buy you flowers and take you out to dinners and listen to a hundred million mix tapes and make them for you in return if you please just stay…” Sherlock begged.

John sat up and kissed him gently, “I’m not asking for that Sherlock… I’m not asking for extremes, but I don’t care how you figure out romance, just that I get some, all right?” he asked softly, running a hand through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock nodded and kissed John softly. “Now,” John stated, “We have to go to the Yard soon, so let’s get dressed and we’ll talk more later, yeah?” he asked sweetly, in a way that only John could. “Okay,” Sherlock nodded and they dressed quickly before catching a cab to the Yard.

As Sherlock and John arrived, Sherlock walked past Anderson and Donovan without making any comments. John smiled proudly and slipped his hand into Sherlock’s, squeezing it before dropping it again as they walked up to Lestrade. Sherlock squeezed his hand tightly, looking at John with a soft smile.

“Ah, Lestrade, what is it now?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Locked door murder. We have done a quite a lot of things you normally do, well, we tried, but we need you to come look at it all.” Lestrade said grudgingly.

“Of course you do,” Sherlock smirked, and he started walking off towards the house, his hand locked in John’s.

“Be polite Sherlock,” John warned, “He always has the ability to refuse you from cases,”

At that, Sherlock pouted, “But Jawwwwwwn…” he drawled, leaning down to kiss John’s nose. This case excited Sherlock more than he let on, due to the fact that he was nearly bouncing. John rolled his eyes, “Don’t get too ridiculously cocky, Sherlock Holmes,” he warned but continued on next to him.

Lestrade and the rest of the team watched on in shock as the two held hands and all of their mouths fell open when Sherlock kissed John’s nose. They were shocked at how Sherlock had convinced John to date him. Once the case was over, Lestrade walked up to John, “So… how long has this been going on?”

“Oh, not long, just a few , erm, months…”

“Really John? Why didn’t you tell me?!” Lestrade asked, a bit upset.

“No one knew, not my Mum, not even Mycroft,” John said slowly, “So please calm down, you know I’d of told you if I could,” John said in a pacifying manner.  Lestrade pulled him into a hug, “I’m happy for you two. I really am. We need to go out for drinks soon,” the taller man smiled. John nodded quickly, “Of course! Tuesday night, yes?”

“What’s going on Tuesday night?” Sherlock asked, walking up next to John and taking his hand possessively. John scowled, “Sherlock, I’m allowed to have friends,” he reminded him quietly, frowning. Sherlock shrugged and pulled John closer to himself.

“Tuesday night,” Lestrade nodded, smiling. He walked off and John turned to face Sherlock, “A bit not good, Sherlock,” he said with a sigh. Sherlock shrugged, “Whatever,” and he tugged on John’s hand, pulling him away.


End file.
